A Study In Seduction(47)

“Why?”

“Because I would welcome your company. I’ll send a carriage to pick you up Thursday afternoon for the train station.”

With that, he began striding toward the door.

“Lord Northwood!”

He stopped. Lydia’s heart pounded hard.

“You… you would welcome my company?” she repeated.

A faint amusement lit his eyes. “Is that difficult to believe?”

“Well, no, but I… I really don’t think—”

“You intend to renege on a debt?” A wicked glint appeared in his eyes as he approached her again. “My lady of such honor and pride?”

Lydia straightened her spine. “I did say I wished for the debt to be within reason.”

“Nothing unreasonable about a short visit. Floreston Manor is always enjoyable.”

“I don’t doubt it. I… I merely think it would be best if we maintained a business relationship, such as it is anyhow.”

“Are you implying this visit could result in something more?” He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his irises, could sense the storm brewing in him.

Lydia swallowed. “I… I would merely prefer not to create the illusion of impropriety.”

“All right, then. We’ll dispense with the illusion and engage solely in the impropriety.”

Her eyes flew to his in shock, but before she could utter another word, he closed the distance between them. His big hand slid around the back of her head, and he brought her mouth to his in a kiss as sweet and delicious as a ripe apple. Her hands came up to flatten against his chest, her arms tensing with the simultaneous urge to push him away and pull him closer.

Heat bloomed through her body. His mouth moved with urgency over hers, setting flame to the desire she’d kept banked for so very long. His hand moved to her neck, his fingers tangling through her hair. He slipped his other hand around to her lower back, pulling their bodies closer.

Lydia closed her eyes. Colors of crimson and gold swept behind her eyelids and began whirling through her blood.

Alive. Lord in heaven, he made her feel so incredibly alive.

Every beat of her heart echoed in her head, and a delicious, melting sensation spread through her lower body. Her fingers moved across his chest, trembling at the feeling of the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He was tense, vibrating with want, his tongue sliding across her lower lip in a possessive move that made her shudder with the urge to be taken.

Her lips parted beneath his. With a mutter of satisfaction, he slipped his tongue into the hot cavern of her mouth, the invasion unbearably intimate. Their breath danced. Lydia remembered their last encounter when she had been bold enough to cup his heavy groin in her hand. With a gasp, she did it again, slipped her hand down his torso to find the source of his arousal.

He swore, his body tightening with need. Triumph flitted in Lydia as she moved her fingers over him, her heart tripping over itself, her tongue darting tentatively past his lips. His hand tightened on the back of her damp neck, his breath coming faster.

Then, in a gesture that seemed oddly contradictory to the heat sparking between them, he slid his mouth away from hers and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Something broke inside Lydia, the cracking open of a fragile eggshell. Unwanted, painful memories clouded the eruption of intense pleasure and desire. She shut her eyes tight as if to block out the darkness, desperate for the brilliant, sweet sensations to regain supremacy.

She knew it then. She knew that if she were ever to allow her true self to emerge once again, if she were ever to acknowledge the suppressed part of herself, it would be with Alexander Hall. No other man in the world would ever make her want—no, need—to take such a dangerous, breathtaking risk.

She moved her lips to his ear, loose strands of her hair sliding across his cheek. Her voice sounded hoarse, heavy with need. “I want to see you.”

“Christ, Lydia—”

She tightened her grip on him. Northwood sucked in a breath. He shoved himself against her, burying his face in her thick hair. Blood rushed through her veins, as hot and fast as a firestorm.

“I won’t last,” he hissed in her ear, his voice taut.

“I don’t want you to,” Lydia breathed. She drew back, her skin flushed with heat and her body filled with a longing so intense she didn’t know if it could ever be sated. “But I want…” She shifted against him, sliding a leg between his thighs, her hips rocking. “I want more, Northwood, please—”